


Outed

by emmagrace13



Category: Andi Mack (TV)
Genre: Boyfriends, Coming Out, Crushes, Fluff, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, Love, M/M, Mutual Pining, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-31
Updated: 2018-08-31
Packaged: 2019-07-04 21:25:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,658
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15849663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emmagrace13/pseuds/emmagrace13
Summary: On a mission to cross off another item on his bucket list, Cyrus volunteers to do the daily announcements, and it's all thanks to T.J.'s help!  Little does the pair know that this would bring more trouble to them than they could ever imagine.





	Outed

**Author's Note:**

> Request by gynny: Cyrus publicly come out as gay (mostly by accident) and TJ is feeling down because he thought they were friend but Cyrus never told him before telling he whole school
> 
> It's been two whole months. I am so sorry! I actually tend to thrive more during hiatus (it's hard to write during the show because canon is constantly changing whereas time in a hiautus stands still). I just wanted to say that this apparently resembles an episode of Stuck in the Middle (although I don't watch that show) but I noticed it on a commercial during a binge of Andi Mack. Anyway, besides the point, have fun reading! It's a long one!
> 
> Dedicated to the Secret Tyrus Society. Yes, even you, invalid Jay.

Cyrus could admit with ease that he was a creature of habit.  He hung out with the same group of people that he had since second grade, he would go to the same restaurant that he had frequented everyday for the past five years with that _same_ group of friends, _and_ they even would get the same order there (baby taters and milkshakes, of course!) every time they went.  Cyrus’s fondness of his almost anticipated regimens even went as far as him having the same kind of routine for each school day.  He was a pretty predictable guy, and his daily schedules reflected that.

Cyrus had mulled over and went through the motions of his day-to-day routine so many times that it was practically second nature to him now.  His routine for school was simple: get dressed in an outfit combination picked out from the night before, attempt to get a chocolate chocolate-chip muffin in the breakfast line at school (he usually liked T.J. to help him if it was at all possible), listen to Andi and Jonah’s drama with a smile plastered on his face as they waited for the bell to ring, and then volunteer to do the daily announcements before classes began, all the while scoring high marks in all of his classes, devouring his lunch, suffering his way through the treacherous PE period, and then hanging out at The Spoon until his dinner curfew.  Just your average day, right?

There was only _one_ wrinkle in his otherwise flawless regimen: _the daily announcements._

Doing the daily announcements was always a much coveted job (mostly because it got students out of class), and Cyrus was not an exception to the glamor and thrill of it.  He had never done it himself, but it had always seemed so exhilarating to him! The lights, the camera, the action...it could only lead him along further on his path of directing, Cyrus was _sure_ of it!

Unfortunately for him, despite his extensive background in the directing aspect of it all _and_ volunteering nearly everyday for the position, Cyrus still hadn’t gotten a single opportunity at the job!  The tragedy of it all! He had almost begun to lose hope that he’d ever get a chance (and had even stopped volunteering for a while at his lack of faith in himself), but T.J. had talked him right back into it the night before during Cyrus’s daily visit to The Spoon.  Over a basket overflowing with The Spoon’s infamous crispy baby taters, the basketball player promised Cyrus that his day would come.

And it did!  Just...not in the way he expected.  Not in a way either of them expected, quite honestly.

On a particularly dreadful Monday morning, Cyrus suffered through the first few minutes of a very long week to come with no chocolate chocolate-chip muffin (where was T.J. when you needed him?) all the while listening to Andi’s boyfriend troubles like the supportive friend he was.  After Andi lightly chided him for not listening to her (he was daydreaming about the chocolatey goodness of his favorite muffins...mhm), Cyrus hurried to class and plopped down into his slightly squeaky desk chair in a flourish. _Just on time!_ he happily heeded.  He loved to have perfect attendance (aside from the one time he skipped gym to avoid doing a somersault.   _Not_ his best moment.  Luckily the coach hadn’t even noted his absence).

When the warning bell finally chimed, Cyrus’s homeroom teacher, Ms. Beveridge, stood up before the class with a bored, grim expression on her face that Cyrus had long grown accustomed to.  As he had learned over the course of his seventh-grade year, she was _not_ a morning person, and talking to her before she had her caffeine was like waking a sleeping grizzly bear, and an extremely grumpy one at that!

“Who wants to do the daily announcements this morning?” their teacher asked in her usual monotone, sipping from a thermos that Cyrus happily noted was steaming from a loose crevice in the lid.  He was free to badger her now that she had caffeine flowing through her veins!

For the first time in a while, Cyrus’s hand shot up along the sea of other volunteers.  Now was his opportunity! “Me, me!” he exclaimed. He received an eye roll for his enthusiasm, and he immediately changed his tone.   _Maybe the coffee hasn’t kicked all the way in yet_ , he countered with himself.  “I would be happy to do it, Ms. Beveridge,” Cyrus said more tamely, trying to downplay his excitement.  He did _not_ want to be shot down before he was even considered for the job.  He wanted to accomplish something, and in turn make T.J. proud of yet another thing he crossed off his list.  

The rest of the class dropped their hands at Cyrus’s request, and the teacher had no choice but to allow the boy due to the sudden lack of other volunteers.  “Fine. You all know the drill. You need another student to do it with you.” Cyrus glanced curiously around the classroom, but his classmates remained still in their seats, their hands resting idly on their desks or in their laps, and he bit his lip in disappointment.  Did no one want to do the announcements with him? Did everyone hate him _that_ much?

Ms. Beveridge exhaled loudly through her nose in annoyance at the lack of participants.  “Mr. Goodman, just pick someone to do it, it doesn’t matter.” As she walked over to her desk and plunked down into her swivel chair, Cyrus swore that he heard her mumble underneath her breath, “Three more years until retirement,” but he tried to shake her bitter, resenting words from his mind.

Instead, he listened to the teacher’s orders and glanced around at his classmates in search of a potential partner.  His eyes immediately found Andi, who sat pretty close by him, but she was gazing off into the distance, probably daydreaming about an art project that was itching to be finished back in Andi Shack.  Or she was thinking about Jonah. Or thinking about making _another_ art piece for Jonah.  Either way, Cyrus didn’t want to disrupt her from her most likely Jonah filled thoughts.  He knew that feeling all too well.

His eyes drifted over to Buffy next, and, as if she were anticipating Cyrus to consider her, was already staring back at him with insistence dancing in her eyes, shaking her head at him adamantly.  Buffy _hated_ doing the announcements, and she always avoided doing them if possible.  She claimed that she would rather stay in class and listen to them than do it herself, but Cyrus suspected it was her dislike of their newest principal, Dr. Metcalf, that kept her from going up there.

Cyrus sent her a pleading look, but Buffy glared back, her strong-willedness unwavering.  

Cyrus put on an apologetic smile before raising his hand.   _Sorry, Buffy!_ “Ms. Beveridge, I want Buffy to do the daily announcements with me!” he chimed cheerily. At his words, Buffy slapped her forehead, and Cyrus grinned at the sight.  

The teacher grumbled, taking another gulp from her thermos.  “ _Fantastic_ ,” she drawled boredly.  She certainly didn’t care to the same degree Cyrus did.  “Go to the office.”

Cyrus excitedly got up from his desk, clapping happily to himself while Buffy rose from her desk with a loud huff.  As she met Cyrus by the threshold of the door, she gave him a spiteful look. “I will never forgive you for this,” she said, forcing the door to _click_ behind them.  She used more force than necessary, and the loud slam made Cyrus flinch.

“Oh, _come on_ , Buffy, it won’t be so bad,” he assured her as they made their way down the hallway. He tried to smile good-naturedly, although his enthusiasm was met with the harsh side-eyed glances that his best friend kept sending his way.  “I bet you’ll want to do it again after today, too!”

Buffy looked at him incredulously.  “I can _promise_ that I won’t.”

They continued their trek through the school and, thanks to the direction of the school’s receptionist, found themselves inside of a room off to the side, filled to the brim with sound equipment that Cyrus had only _dreamed_ of using.  So he was kind of a nerd.  Sue him!

Cyrus took in his surroundings in complete awe.  Behind him was a wall-to-wall green screen, supplied to replace the dull, white cement block walls behind them whilst reciting the daily announcements.  On the right wall was a wide window, giving them a perfect view of the school halls and locker bays, while the sound apparatus itself was facing them. Cyrus knew that he wouldn’t get the opportunity to, but he wished that he could learn every single button and its function in the time that he spent in here.  It all looked so fascinating! And why did all those buttons look so appealing to punch and press?

He drifted over to the large soundboard, vaguely taking notice of sign on the left of the wall that read _On Air_ (that was oddly devoid of any light or motion) before turning his attention to the mega sound board.  He sighed happily as his eyes swept over all of controls. It only made him want to go into the film industry even more!

Buffy strolled over to where he was, seeming at least mildly impressed that their school actually had this high tech equipment (which was _unusual_ for a school who refused to even found a girls’ basketball team due to ‘budget issues’, she thought bitterly).  She faintly ran a hand against the shiny board before shrugging indifferently. “Not bad,” she commented. “Still not worth seeing Dr. Metcalf over,” Buffy reminded Cyrus bitingly.  “What does he have a Doctorate in again? Ruining students’ lives?”

Cyrus rolled his eyes playfully at his best friend.  She must’ve disagreed with their principal’s methods more than he had originally thought.  “Ha, ha, Buffy, but I don’t think they would’ve let him run the school if they knew that,” he pointed out.  He glanced at his watch boredly, and his eyes widened when he saw the time: _7:58 A.M._  Where was their principal at, anyway?  “Isn’t he supposed to be here by now?”

Buffy shrugged, obviously uncaring.  “How am I supposed to know? I don’t keep track of him, let alone what time he gets here.”

Cyrus sighed worriedly as he checked his watch again, despite no time having had passed.  What if he missed his one opportunity to do the daily announcements? They weren’t allowed to start without Dr. Metcalf, after all…

“ _Cyrus_ ,” Buffy said firmly, putting both hands on his shoulders in order to gain his full attention, “it’s going to be okay.  Don’t worry.”

“I _always_ worry.  What are you talking about?”  Buffy released him of her hold and just shook her head incredulously.  There was no calming Cyrus down once he got worked up. She might as well have been talking to a wall (and an extremely anxious one at that).  

When Cyrus caught the slightest movement in the window out of the corner of his eye, he jerked his head, suddenly feeling his hope heighten once more.  Was Dr. Metcalf finally here?

However, when his eyes focused in on the person, he was met with someone much better than their grouchy principal.   _T.J.!_

The basketball player caught his eye through the window, and he slightly beamed at him, waving at him through the smudge-free window (seriously, this room was a dream!).  Cyrus waved back faintly, returning an endearing smile of his own.

T.J. pointed toward the door leading into the room, mouthing words that looked an awful lot like, “Lamb eye nun is mine,” (Cyrus didn’t move the lips, he just read them!), and just gave the basketball player a confused look in return.  What was he saying?

T.J. rolled his eyes playfully to himself before coming to the door and pushing down on the metal handle, and Cyrus briefly heard muffled chatter and hurried footsteps as students made their way to their respective homerooms before T.J. promptly closed the door shut behind him.

“You’re finally doing the announcements?” T.J. immediately asked, his eyebrows jumping up at his question.  Cyrus felt himself melt inside at the expression. Why did T.J. have to look so _cute_?

“Yep!  Another thing we can scratch off my bucket list,” Cyrus noted happily.  T.J. had taken it upon himself to help Cyrus with all of the things he wanted to complete in life (or thought he could never do), and Cyrus was more than willing to oblige.  He’d take any reason to hang out with T.J., honestly.

He also was glad that T.J. had such confidence in him.  No one had ever done anything like this for him before, and the fact that T.J. cared so much about helping Cyrus build up his self esteem whilst achieving things he never imagined possible made Cyrus’s heart melt all the more.

It was no wonder he was so hopelessly smitten for T.J. Kippen.  

“I’m happy for you, Underdog,” T.J. told him genuinely, and Cyrus returned his warm well-wishing remark with a balmy grin of his own.

As Cyrus (admittedly) found himself lost within the entrancement of T.J.’s mesmerizing green eyes, the final bell for class rang, and T.J. groaned audibly. “Shoot, I gotta go.  I have gym and we’re supposed to meet Coach Anderson outside today,” he informed, annoyance crossing his face. When his eyes flickered back to meet Cyrus’s captivating gaze, his face morphed, his lips transforming from a cross frown to a small, but sweet, smile reserved solely for the shorter boy. “See you around?”

Cyrus nodded, dazed.  He felt as if he had been broken from a trance.  “Y-yeah, see you later, T.J.”

“See ya,” the basketball player said, leaving Cyrus stricken with one last breathtaking smile he sent him over his shoulder.  Why did this boy have such an effect on him?

T.J. left through the same door he came in and began to jog toward the outside doors (albeit tardy), but paused to turn around and glance back at Cyrus one last time.  Cyrus beamed back at him, feeling like he could melt right into the floor, and he leaned back onto the sound equipment dreamily, not even noticing the way the buttons were digging uncomfortably into his palms.  

“You’ve really got it bad for him, don’t you?” Buffy asked, slinging an arm around Cyrus’s shoulders.  

Cyrus stared at her in disbelief.  “How could you _not_ have a crush on T.J.?”

Buffy arched an incredulous brow.  “Get back to me when he treats you horribly,” she said jokingly, although a bitter tone crept into her voice, and Cyrus playfully nudged her to shake her out of her most likely angry thoughts.  He didn’t want her to delve back in to some old resentments (at least not now when T.J. was actively being a better person).

“Point taken,” Cyrus told her, trying to end the conversation subtly.  He lifted himself up from the soundboard, shifting a few buttons in the process, and he massaged his hands as he noticed the unattractive marks that the controls had left on his palms.  When had he even leaned on the soundboard? He honestly didn’t even remember.

As Cyrus gently ran his palms against his blue cardigan, trying to calm the angry red marks on his skin, a slightly tense silence filled the room as they impatiently waited for their principal to show up.  In an attempt to distract Buffy from the situation currently at hand, Cyrus played with the microphone, putting on his best announcer voice. “Buffy the Basketball Slayer, Most Valuable Player!” he said, deepening his voice to match that of a sports anchor.  

Buffy let out a wide grin at his announcer voice, and Cyrus smiled as he watched his best friend light up.  Nothing could cure her like his famous basketball patter! “Say a prayer, ‘cause here comes the Slayer!” he continued comically, and Buffy and him burst into laughter.   _What a shame the school can’t hear my sports prattle right now_ , Cyrus thought to himself.  He was so iconic at Buffy’s basketball games that the entire school deserved to hear it!

In the midst of their giggling fit, a voice not-so-subtly cleared their throat, catching the best friends’ attention.  As their principal towered over them with an intimidating brow raised, the pair choked down their laughter and suppressed their smiles.  It was like Dr. Metcalf had the power to suck down all the fun in the room with just his _presence_.

Cyrus had the opposite of that power.

“I see you two have been abusing this privilege while I was late this morning,” their principal noted aloud, and Cyrus could feel Buffy’s annoyance rolling off of her in heavily concentrated waves.  He himself felt more frightened than he did irritated, unlike his best friend. Nothing scared her, though; Cyrus was sure of it.

“I’m so sorry, Dr. Metcalf, we were just waiting for you to arrive and—” Cyrus rambled, but their principal cut him off with a raised hand.

“Enough,” he said, shaking his head in agitation as he pursed his lips, “let’s just get this started, shall we?” Dr. Metcalf asked, slapping a crisp piece of paper against Cyrus’s chest.  Cyrus was taken aback at first, stumbling slightly at the unexpected action, but he quickly regained his balance and got over his shock when his eyes skimmed over the boldly typed words on the paper.  It was the daily announcements! This was actually happening! He could hardly believe that this day had finally come…

Dr. Metcalf broke him from his joy-ridden thoughts.  “Go ahead and start, but no more funny business,” he said, warning the two of them with a point of his finger and a serious look settled upon his face.  Once he finally left the room, Cyrus and Buffy both let out their respective sighs of relief. Their principal made the space feel so strangled, and Cyrus hated feeling like that.  Now he understood why Buffy had such a strong aversion to speaking with him and why she avoided him at all costs.

“Okay, go ahead and turn it on,” Buffy advised, “before we get into _more_ trouble than we’re already in.”

Cyrus nodded, silently agreeing with her, and he moved forward and fidgeted with a few buttons.   _How did you even turn this thing on?_ Cyrus thought to himself.

When Buffy noticed the lost glint in his eyes, she looked at him in disbelief.  “You don’t even know how to turn it on?”

“Shh, don’t rush me!” Cyrus murmured, and Buffy huffed beside them.  When she noticed the sign _On Air_ blinking red, she grabbed Cyrus’s arm.  “Oh, you already turned it on, Cyrus!”

Cyrus glanced at her in confusion.  “I didn’t even touch anything,” he claimed, his eyebrows drawn together in uncertainty as he removed his hands carefully from the soundboard.  Was he just so skilled that he turned it on without even realizing it? He must be more of a natural than he thought!

“Go ahead and start!” she exclaimed, gesturing toward the microphone, and he hurried to shield it from her booming voice.  

“Patience, Buffy, patience,” he whispered urgently. Cyrus whipped the paper against the air to straighten the sheet, and he smiled to himself.  This was it! His moment to shine!

 _And it’s all thanks to T.J._ , a part of his brain added.  Cyrus smiled before opening his mouth.  He’d be sure to thank T.J. in his award acceptance speech when he was older!  “Good morning, Jefferson Middle School!” he started. Cyrus grinned, allowing his natural charisma to take the lead. “Please rise for the Pledge of Allegiance!”

* * *

 

T.J. groaned as he jogged another lap around the track, the biting humid heat attacking his hair.  His Jefferson Middle School sweatshirt was beginning to cling uncomfortably to his skin, and T.J. took a few staggered, unevenly paced steps to strip his hoodie off and toss it around his shoulders hurriedly to rid himself of the hot waves radiating off his body.  Just as he paused completely in the middle of the track to wipe off the beads of sweat that had collected above his brow, he heard a sharp, piercing whistle shrill at him for stopping, and T.J. rolled his eyes before picking up his swift pace once more. _Why did today have to be mile day?_ T.J. asked himself dryly.

It wasn’t even the running part that got him down; he was used to invigorating exercises like this during basketball practice all the time.  It was more of the fact that he had to miss Cyrus doing the daily announcements for the first time. T.J. wished he could’ve just skipped gym that day so he could be in the room with him, giving Cyrus little bursts of confidence as he needed them.

A standstill of Cyrus smiling at him flashed brilliantly in his mind, the boy’s adorable toothy grin completely hopeful and eager, and it only drove T.J. to pump his legs harder against the track, its rigid surface working against the grips of his tennis shoes.  The quicker he finished running his mile, the sooner he could see the gleeful expression on Cyrus’s face. He _lived_ for that expression.  

Once T.J. finally crossed the finish line for the 4th (and final) time, he heaved and leaned his hands against his bent knees as he regained his breath.  The coach pat him on the back and congratulated him on his time (6:57, his best time _ever_ ), but T.J.’s mind was wandering elsewhere, roaming back to the soundboard room.   _I hope he’s doing okay,_ T.J. thought to himself.  After he regained his breath, he straightened his spine, feeling each vertebrae lock into place as he stood up.  He took a longing glance at the school before the coach blew his whistle sharply, and T.J., with one last annoyed huff, was back onto the track, joining his classmates.  How he wished he were with Cyrus right now…

* * *

 

Cyrus felt a smile tug onto his lips as he and Buffy began to ramble back to class.  He couldn’t believe that he had actually done it! He did the daily announcements, and fluidly so (unlike that whole school video disaster with Jonah)!  Cyrus was so proud of himself for doing something without horrendously messing it up, and he couldn’t wait to see the proud look on T.J.’s face when he saw him next.  

He entered the classroom, showing off a boastful smile as he awaited his classmate’s praise for his accomplishment, but he was met with none; instead, he was greeted with their expressionless faces, although their eyes glinted with conflicting emotions; Cyrus saw so many different ones swirling in his classmates eyes that he felt almost overwhelmed, and his smile fell from his face.  What was wrong with his classmates? What had happened while he had been gone?

“What’s going on?” Cyrus whispered to Buffy, clinging onto the strap of his shoulder bag as he voiced his thoughts aloud.  All the eyes at him made him feel like they were stripping away his confidence, peering into the darkest pieces of his soul to see the frail, insecure part inside of him that was sure everyone hated him.  He did _not_ like that feeling at all.  Not one bit.

Buffy’s eyebrows drew together as she scanned over their classmates, and she shrugged, just as confused as her best friend was.  “I have no idea,” she mumbled back.

As soon as she spotted them, Ms. Beveridge was quick to clamber out of her seat and to the two students, and Cyrus’s stomach dropped at the slightly alarmed look on her face.  What was going on? He had never seen his teacher wear an expression that conveyed anything except the dislike of her job and her students, but if she was _concerned_ , something really must have been wrong!

“Go ahead and take a seat, Ms. Driscoll,” she said in her normal monotone.  “You too, Cyrus,” she added on, her voice dipping into a softer range. She laid a gentle hand on his shoulder, and Cyrus jerked back at the action in worry.  First she was calling him something other than Mr. Goodman, but now she was being nice? What planet was he on because this was not Earth!

His brow furrowed, but he followed his teacher’s commands nevertheless, taking his seat near the back like normal.  He glanced back at Andi, hoping she could snap him out of his pit of anxiety, but the worried look that contorted her features only confirmed his fear that something was _very, very wrong_.

In an attempt to seize his last shred of optimism without falling into the depths of despair (he _did_ tend to go overboard sometimes), Cyrus tried to shake his persisting negative thoughts away from his mind.   _You’re just overthinking everything_ , he assured himself.  His father constantly reminded him that he shouldn’t let the technical details of everything get to him; it only worsened his day-to-day anxiety, and Cyrus liked to keep his anxious thoughts tucked away in the corners of his mind to keep them from curling inside of him like smothering campfire smoke.

That was why he was glad to have a buffer: T.J., his supportive, amazing friend (if you could even call him that; to Cyrus he felt like so much more than a _friend_ ) that kept his neurotic thoughts at bay.  With T.J. he felt like he could face the world, but now that he was alone without the basketball player by his side, Cyrus felt as if all the wary eyes on him could disintegrate him into a pile of ash.  An insecure heap of cinders.

As his teacher finally recaptured all of their attention, beginning their first class of the day, Cyrus tried to shove his intrusive, anxiety-ridden thoughts to the back of his mind and instead focused on the advice his stepmother (slash therapist, but _details_ ) constantly gave him.   _What good would worrying do?_

When the bell eventually chimed, signalling the end of their first period, Cyrus had already managed to rid himself of all of his distressed, nagging thoughts, and by the time he was walking out of the door and into the hallway, he had even gained a bounce in his step.  Where was T.J.? He had to find him and tell him that he did the announcements by himself, that he hadn’t even messed up once!

T.J. found him first.  

* * *

 

After jogging as fast as he could without being berated by his coach, T.J. made it back to the school, excusing himself quickly to ‘go to the bathroom’ (he was actually hoping he could meet Cyrus outside of his first period class before the bell rang, but Coach Anderson didn’t need to know that).  Instead of going straight to the restroom, though, like he had promised, T.J. hurried to switch out of his gym clothes and back into his normal outfit, making sure to tug on his Jefferson Middle School hoodie before bounding out of the boys’ changing room and to his locker. With only a few minutes til the bell, T.J. snatched his textbooks for his next class from the top shelf, and just as he went to shut the locker’s pale metal door, a couple of cackling voices interrupted him.  

“Hey, Kippen,” a voice sneered, and T.J. turned around with a raised eyebrow.  Once he saw the familiar, jeering faces, the basketball player had to resist the urge to roll his eyes.

“What do you want?” he asked, annoyance immediately contorting his features.  The boy and his friends circled around T.J., and the basketball player huffed.  Who did they think they were, anyway? Without his status feeding into their egos, T.J. was surprised that they could even survive with what little reputation they had left to maintain.  

All three boys nudged each other, snickering in a way that meant they only knew what the other was laughing about.  T.J. felt anger rise in his chest at their avoidance of his question, and he spoke again to gain their attention, his irritation prominently lining his voice with a sharp, rigid edge.  “Well?”

“Looks like you’ve got yourself a boyfriend, Kippen,” the one in the middle chortled, his name somehow managing to slip from T.J.’s memory.  

T.J. froze, a slight panic starting to swell in his chest.   _Boyfriend?_  What were they talking about?  Did they...did they know that he liked Cyrus?

T.J. shook his head in denial, then tried to keep his expression indifferent.   _No.  There’s no_ way _they know._ “Boyfriend?” he asked incredulously.  T.J. tried to ignore the way his heart was trying to beat itself out of his chest as he thought about how he was _actually_ having to deny this right now.  How had this even started? “What are you talking about?”

The one on the right with terrible bleach-blonde hair (Kyle, T.J. thought his name was, not that he particularly cared at the moment) spoke next, and his pinched, nasally voice made T.J. cringe internally.  “Don’t act like you _aren’t_ dating Goodman,” he snickered, and T.J.’s heart stopped.   _Goodman?  They think I’m dating Cyrus?_

It was basically common knowledge that him and Cyrus were attached at the hip, but he didn’t see why everyone was assuming things about their….granted, _unusual_ relationship.  

As far as he knew, Cyrus thought of the two as them as every other heterosexual, platonic friendship on the planet.  Not that T.J. would agree with that particular sentiment.

 _If only that were true,_ the basketball player thought to himself bitterly. It would be a lot easier on his end.  

“I’m not dating Cyrus,” T.J. denied, somehow managing to get his words across without a wavering slip of the tongue.  How he wished the words didn’t send his heart into a winding spiral the way that they did.

T.J. swallowed, forcing himself to choke down the sudden blooming feeling in his chest.  He didn’t even know if Cyrus even liked guys for God sake! What if Cyrus was uncomfortable with him being gay?  Or with being friends with someone he was supposedly ‘dating’ according to the school’s obnoxious rumor mill? T.J. wasn’t exactly sure, and a part of him didn’t want to find out.

“Seems like it,” the third kid on the left said, a sarcastic undertone shining through his gruff voice. T.J. turned back to his locker, feigning disinterest as the cronies spoke.  

How T.J. wished he didn’t have to dismiss any of these claims.  How he wished he could hold Cyrus’s hand as they walked to class together like any other couple they knew, like Jonah and Andi.  He wanted it so much that his chest ached at the mere thought of it.

But T.J. knew how unobtainable that dream was, and he tried to wipe his mind of it to not indulge himself (albeit unsuccessfully).  

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” T.J. said finally, turning back to face the group of delinquents.  How he hated that he had once been the ring leader of their group. They reminded him of how he used to be...how awful he had been back then.

The corners of his mouth tugged up.   _Cyrus_ was the reason he wasn’t a jerk anymore.  And that made him happier than anything.

Kyle raised his eyebrows challengingly, and the smirk that grew on his face to follow his poised brow made T.J.’s stomach crawl uneasily.  He _knew_ that mischievous smirk, and it was not something to take lightly.

“Well?” T.J. asked, his annoyance and impatience overpowering his voice.  He didn’t want to waste his time and energy talking to these losers when he could be talking to Cyrus at this very moment instead.  

T.J. could almost imagine his smile, the one he only got on his face when he was proud of himself.  First his eyes would glimmer with the sense of achievement, and the sparkles his eyes shone with reminded T.J. of the ripples of the lake near his house when they reflected back their own watery versions of the brilliant stars above.  Even better was Cyrus’s smile, that would get so wide to the point that T.J. thought he couldn’t beam any wider, the boy’s stretched lips so full of pride and glee that it made T.J.’s heart swell with a foreign feeling he could not identify.

Or maybe he could.  But he was far too scared to say it aloud.

 _Love_ , a part of his brain nagged at him.  T.J. pushed that part of his brain to the back of his mind where it belonged.

“Well, turns out Goodman is gay,” Kyle spat menacingly, and T.J. head jerked in surprise.   _Wait, what now?_  “He accidentally let it slip on the daily announcements,” he finally admitted with a snigger.  He and his friends chortled, and T.J. looked at them, completely speechless. He grasped for the right words to say, but he couldn’t find any; were there even _right_ words to say in this situation?  

He settled for a basic response.  “So what if he is?” T.J. said, trying to shrug indifferently.  He hoped the tough shell he was building around himself was hiding the scared part of him, the part that wanted to retch at the whole situation.  How had this even happened? They had to be lying, right?

There was no way Cyrus had accidentally outed himself to the entire school...there was no way something _this_ traumatizing had happened to his closest friend and he had missed it.  Was Cyrus okay? Was he sitting in a classroom somewhere while everyone stared and whispered about him?  Or had he fled the moment word had gotten out?

He wondered if Cyrus even knew.

Another round of booming laughter was exchanged between the three boys, as if they knew something he didn’t.  It made T.J.’s blood boil, and he hoped they knew how lucky they were that he was already tired from running the mile.  God knew what he’d do to them otherwise.

“What?” the basketball player spat, his stomach clawing uneasily at him.  

They all snickered again before the one on the right, the tallest of the three, spoke.  “Goodman has a big old gay _crush on you_ ,” they confessed with wide smirks, all of them unsuccessfully hiding their amusement at the situation.

T.J. was pretty sure his heart stopped, and he thanked whatever God there was up there when the bell decided to ring at that exact moment.  It could _not_ have been more perfect timing.

As the blaring of the school bell sounded throughout the building, T.J. turned away to hide his stained cheeks, a frantic feeling settling in his chest as the hallways began to fill with students bubbling with conversation (probably about what had just happened, T.J. figured).  He began to walk in a brisk, almost panicked manner in the opposite direction of his old friends, fear squeezing its way into his chest as the thought of Cyrus being alone, frightened beyond words, flashed into his mind. Before he completely was out of his old friend’s earshot, he heard Kyle shout out one last biting remark.  “Looks like Kippen’s gay after all!”

T.J. felt anger seize him, the flaring, enraging emotion taking root of his heart and pounding throughout every atom in his body, but he refused to look back.  One thing was certain:

He needed to find Cyrus.

* * *

 

Cyrus felt an arm reach out and whip him around to face them, and he winced at the action in pain.  “Ow, Andi, that hurt!” he whined, rubbing his arm where a row of perfectly manicured fingernails had gouged his skin

“Cyrus, your arm isn’t important right now!” his best friend said, her voice getting higher with urgency.

Cyrus felt worry settle over him again.  What was wrong? Was something wrong with his shirt?  Did he have something in his teeth?

Somehow, his brain was ringing with alarm bells, warning him it was something more serious, but he didn’t get a chance to ponder on exactly _what_ because another hand was tugging at him, grasping for his attention.

“T.J.,” he breathed, a happy smile extending on his face ear to ear as he took in the taller boy.  “Did you hear me on the daily announcements? I did it! I didn’t even mess up!”

Cyrus expected to be met with that proud smile that T.J. reserved only for him, the one that made something exhilarating bubble from his stomach to his chest until his entire body was hooked on the indescribable, overwhelming feeling.  Instead, he was greeted by a quick, drawn-in wince, and that familiar anxious feeling washed over him in tremendous waves.

As he let out his grimace, T.J. watched Cyrus’s proud, excited look dissolve into fear, and his heart ached for the boy across from him.  It was like witnessing a peaceful, serene lake exist contentedly before someone splintered its smooth surface, causing it to ripple across its previously undisturbed slate.  

T.J. did _not_ want to be the person that transformed the tranquil water into dangerous rapids.  Could he even navigate those waters? Could Cyrus?

“T.J.?” Cyrus asked in confusion.  

T.J.’s heart prodded painfully against his ribs as Cyrus’s eyes peeked curiously into the part of his soul that T.J. never allowed anyone else.  T.J. gulped at the boy’s expression, wishing he could give the boy the validation he was seeking from him. But he couldn’t. He _had_ to tell him.

If only it wouldn’t fracture Cyrus’s spirit in the process.

“You know you could’ve told me,” the basketball player began, his eyes flickering between Cyrus’s brown orbs and the plainly tiled school flooring below them.  T.J.’s hand came up to cradle his own neck, trying not to claw at it with his fingernails as his nerves swirled in his belly. How he wished he could keep Cyrus in his innocent, unaware bubble forever.  But even T.J. knew he deserved better than that.

“Told you what?” Cyrus asked, his fear rapidly replacing itself with a thick layer of confusion.

“You know...what you said on the announcements,” T.J. said, leaving a touch of mystery hanging in the air.  

Cyrus’s mind skimmed over all the things he said on the daily announcements that T.J. would possibly care to know about: the sports column (T.J. already knew the scores from those beforehand), the reminder about after school club sign ups (T.J. wouldn’t sign up for anything besides basketball), the teacher’s meeting after school (the basketball player wasn’t a teacher, either), the lunch menu— _oh,_ the lunch menu!  T.J. liked lunch (he was a growing boy, after all)!  “You mean the lunch special today?” Cyrus asked, immediately perking up.  “I know, isn’t it exciting? I—”

“Cyrus,” T.J. interrupted, and Cyrus’s expression dropped.  He couldn’t hide from what T.J. was about to tell him now; judging by his urgent tone and careful word usage, Cyrus knew it _had_ to be serious. T.J. hardly ever called him by his first name, and the fact that he had only reaffirmed the fear that something truly terrible had happened.

“I didn’t hear it myself since I was outside, but…,” T.J. continued, his eyes ungluing themselves from the floor and fluttering to Cyrus again.  Cyrus took the opportunity to take notice of the hordes of students that were staring at them, their eyes fixed onto the pair, and Cyrus braced himself for what was about to come.

“T.J.,” he said, his voice almost pleading.  “ _Please_ , just tell me.”  The eyes on him felt heavier by the minute, and all he wanted to do was grab T.J.’s hand and take him somewhere, anywhere but in the hallway, where everyone’s prying eyes were on them, watching them discuss something that seemed too private for their curious ears.  It was almost too much for Cyrus to handle.

“Apparently, on the announcements you said you liked…,” T.J. trailed off, pausing for a moment as if rephrasing a sentence silently in his head.  “You said you liked guys.”

Cyrus felt like he had been punched in the gut.  He was stunned; there was no other way to put it.  Everyone...everyone knew?

Cyrus felt like he had been submerged underwater, the oxygen in his brain and lungs feeling too light and thin for it to be natural. His soul was bared for all to see, and the eyes on him only intensified the feeling that his secret was _out_.  

Had he accidentally triggered the PA system to turn on beforehand, just in time for the entire student body of Jefferson Middle School to hear his confession?  Is that why the _On Air_ sign had been turned on without him pressing a single button?  

The pieces of the puzzling mystery were interlocking one by one, Cyrus’s confusion clearing itself up, but a different kind of front clouded his mind now.  He felt anger and fear roll over him in cascades at this revelation, at himself for being so _stupid_.  How could he have been so careless?  Cyrus had always been so worried about keeping the truth about himself from his friends, but now everyone in the entire school knew, too!  Wasn’t his moment supposed to be at his time, at his choosing?

“Underdog,” he heard someone mumble endearingly, quiet enough for only him to hear, but his brain couldn’t register _who_ because his mind too busy really with _what_ s and _why_ s _._ Why today?  Why him? What was going to happen now?  Would everyone hate him?

What did T.J. think of him?  

Before he could even register that his feet were moving, Cyrus was already pushing past the multitudes of his classmates that had gathered around in the hallways to watch him.  The suddenly silent corridor was far too loud for him when his mind was _screaming_ with words of his own _._

“Cyrus!” he heard a voice faintly call in the distance, but he didn’t dare look back, the whispering, the pity, disgust, and shock written on people’s faces and glimmering in their eyes being too much for him to even comprehend.  

Just... _why?_

Cyrus’s soon tired feet stumbled into a deserted classroom, and he let out a choked sob that he didn’t know he had been holding back until he burst.  Like a dam that broke after too much pressure.

And there was no point in holding back the floodwaters back now.  

* * *

 

T.J. called after the broken boy, the fragments of his splintered heart shattered on the ground before him, and he shouted his name, not caring who heard him or what they thought about him and Cyrus.  Cyrus was not alright by _any_ circumstances, and T.J. needed to do everything in his power to put back together the fractured, deflated boy who had just had his entire world crumble before his eyes.

Cyrus didn’t deserve this, didn’t deserve _any_ of this.  So why was someone so giving and warm-hearted being dealt the worst hand in life?

T.J. would take all of Cyrus’s pain if given the chance.

He moved forward to go after Cyrus, to collect the pieces of him and put them back together, but a strong, dark hand protruded forth and pushed against T.J.’s chest, inhibiting his movements.  

“I need to talk to Cyrus,” T.J. said adamantly, shoving her hand away.  He propelled forth, but Buffy grabbed his shoulder roughly this time instead, forcing him to pause in motion once more.

“Listen, T.J.,” she started.  She paused, choosing her words carefully in her mind.  Buffy _knew_ how much T.J. meant to Cyrus (and vice versa, although she still had _no idea_ why the older boy was so enamored by her best friend), but how did she know T.J. wasn’t going to judge Cyrus?  Cyrus had just admitted to the entire school that he liked T.J. Kippen, infamous jerk (well, formerly, she could begrudgingly admit) of the basketball team.  Would Cyrus... _liking boys_ mar the two’s friendship, causing T.J. to end their relationship in retaliation?  Or worse, would he bully Cyrus because of it? “How do I know I can trust you?”

Andi nodded along beside them, and Buffy had almost forgotten she was there in the midst of all that had happened over the course of a few minutes.  

T.J. let out a loud huff of exasperation at the pair’s hesitance and lack of faith in him, and he lowered his voice so that intruding ears couldn’t hear his words.  “I _really_ like him, Buffy.  You can trust me.”

Buffy snatched her hand from T.J.’s shoulder as if she had been stung, alarm bells chiming obnoxiously in her head.  “What do you _mean_ you _like_ him?” she asked him, her voice almost having an accusatory tone to it.  Buffy wasn’t sure she wanted to know the answer.

“I think you know what I mean,” T.J. said, his irritation emitting off him in thick waves.  Leaving Buffy and Andi completely stunned, their mouths agape and eyes wide in shock, T.J. propelled through the crowd of students.  He felt indescribable relief wash over him as the bell rang for everyone’s next class, giving him more space in the hallway to roam as people clambered into their respective classrooms.  He anxiously peered into different sets of pellucid windows and slightly ajar doors, praying and hoping that he could somehow win the lottery and find Cyrus amongst the labyrinth of the school hallways (and all the while not getting caught by a teacher, or worse: Dr. Metcalf).  

Finally, T.J. peeked into an empty classroom not far off from their lockerbay (he should’ve known that Cyrus wouldn’t have strayed far, especially if it meant less running for the shorter boy) and caught a wisp of dark hair and a blue cardigan.  

 _Cyrus_ , T.J. thought in relief.

He hesitantly stepped through the threshold, shoving his hands into the pocket of his Jefferson Middle School sweatshirt so Cyrus wouldn’t notice the fidgeting of his fingers.  It would be just like Cyrus to notice an unimportant detail like that. _Probably his shrink parents’ impact_ , T.J. noted to himself in understanding.

He immediately took in the way Cyrus’s form was slouched and tired, the boy completely exhausted with grief as he sat on the edge of a chair behind one of the massive science desks in the room, and T.J. felt a pang of anguish for the other boy as he slid into the seat beside him   _He doesn’t deserve this._   

No one did.

Cyrus met his intent gaze with a trembling lift of the head, his chin wobbling and his eyes glinting with unshed tears.  With that one glance, T.J. could see so much fear and heartache in Cyrus’s eyes, and it was so much for him to handle that he found his fingers extending forth, yearning to tell Cyrus with their touch that everything would be fine, that he could relate to the fear of everyone knowing, of what it might mean.  They planted themselves on the baseline of Cyrus’s wrist, barely brushing against them. T.J. was almost afraid to touch him, as if Cyrus were a glass figurine that could easily snap at a too harsh of a caress. He certainly looked fragile enough to break right now, T.J. could tell that much.

Drops of salty tears only continued to roll down Cyrus’s cheeks in distress, and T.J. hated that he couldn’t stop them.  If only he could take this burden off Cyrus’s shoulders, carry the pain for him, help him not be alone.

But Cyrus was outed now.  And there was nothing T.J. could do to take that back, no matter how much he wished he could.

“What are you doing here, T.J.?” Cyrus asked tiredly, the exhaustion creeping in on his voice.  T.J. felt his stomach swirl uneasily at Cyrus’s beaten expression. He had never seen the boy look so defeated before, not even on their many trips to the swings.  “You shouldn’t be here, you have class,” Cyrus reminded him, wiping away the tears with he heel of his hand.

Why was Cyrus always so concerned with others instead of himself?  He had just announced to the entire school that he liked boys, that boy being _T.J._ more specifically, and yet he was still fretting over the unnecessary pieces of T.J.’s life.  

The basketball player raised an eyebrow incredulously at the shorter boy and snorted.  “You just outed yourself and you’re worried about me _missing class_?” he asked.

Cyrus took a deep breath and pursed his lips, his thoughts solely circulating around his current self-deprecation.  “I can’t believe I just did that, T.J.,” he admitted, his tone forlorn. He glanced in the other boy’s direction and glimpsed down at T.J.’s fingers, the basketball player’s digits poised on the posterior of his hand, and he felt a ping in his chest at the small, but sweet, gesture.  

“How am I even going to face _any_ of our classmates?” Cyrus questioned aloud, his brow furrowing in fear.  He squeezed his eyes shut, allowing the turmoil of it to wash over him, and a sick part of him almost laughed at the irony of it all.  Cyrus had gone into school that morning like every other day of his life, and yet here he was, in a predicament he never thought he’d find himself in.  And now he was skipping class with T.J. because he had just outed himself to the entire school, letting them all know that he had a huge crush on T.J. Kipp—

 _Oh no,_ Cyrus thought to himself, realization finally striking him.   _I just told the entire school I have a huge crush on T.J. Kippen._  What if T.J. hated him?  What if he didn’t like this part of him and refused to be friends with him anymore?

Since T.J. hadn’t heard the announcements himself, did he know _just_ about the liking boys part, or was he aware that he had admitted that he liked T.J., too?

His eyes shone with terror at the possibilities that could be going on in T.J.’s head, and T.J. immediately noticed the drastic change in his demeanor.  Cyrus’s spine was suddenly stiff, and he was leaning away from T.J.’s touch, both of which were abnormal for the boy.

Then again, nothing about this situation was the norm.

“Cyrus?” T.J. asked in confusion.  He retracted his hand at Cyrus’s distant body language and frowned.  

Cyrus took in a quivering, shaky breath, hesitantly meeting T.J.’s eyes, and the fear in his wide, brown orbs pierced right through T.J.’s heart.  Was he afraid of what their classmates would think?

Or was he scared of him?

“Are you okay with all of… _this_?” Cyrus gestured, ending his sentence lamely.  T.J. got the gist.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” T.J. asked, seeming so unbothered by it all that Cyrus felt relief surge his whole body.  

“Oh, thank goodness,” he let out.  “It’s going to be hard enough facing the rest of the school after this, but I don’t know what I’d do if you stopped being friends with me,” he revealed with a sniffle, wiping a few stray tears from his cheeks.  

T.J.’s chest swelled at the thought of Cyrus caring about their friendship, but it immediately deflated at the realization of the hardships Cyrus was going to have to face.  “I’m going to be here. We can do this together,” T.J. insisted.

Cyrus’s insides turned; this wasn’t just another thing they could cross off his bucket list.  He _had_ to go at this alone.  There was no other choice.  “You don’t understand, T.J. There is no ‘we’.  You can’t help me on this one,” Cyrus tried to explain desperately, his chest aching as his mind was processing it all.  How was he going to do any of this without his main source of confidence?

T.J. shook his head adamantly, drawing in a deep breath between his parted lips.  “Cyrus…I know _exactly_ how you feel.”

The words hung stiffly in the air before Cyrus’s mind was whirring with possibilities of what T.J. meant, the words sounding too familiar to be a coincidence.   _Oh.  Did he mean...no, he can’t mean that...can he?_ “T.J., what—”

T.J. interrupted him, saving him from any questions by answering them all with one simple, three-word sentence: “I’m gay, too.”  

The string of unfamiliar words were jarring to Cyrus.  He hadn’t even admitted it to himself aloud before, and yet T.J. just made it look so easy, made the words flow so naturally from his tongue without any wavering or stumbling.

At Cyrus’s loss of words, T.J. continued to speak.  “ _And_ I’m not exactly out yet,” he admitted, tilting his head once to the side, “but I’d be willing to if it meant helping you.”  

Cyrus’s own lips parted in surprise, and his chest bubbled with a feeling so warm and full that he felt like he could cry all over again.  “You…,” he took in a stunned gulp of air to refill his breathless lungs, “you’d do that for me?” Cyrus asked, stuttering over his words in the shock of it all.

The left corner of T.J.’s mouth tugged up, and Cyrus felt the genuity radiating from the basketball player’s signature smirk.  “Of course I would, Underdog.”

“T.J.,” Cyrus started, at a loss for words.  He peered up at T.J. through the eyelashes casted upon his cheeks, and his eyebrows knitted together in worry.  “I don’t want you to come out just because of _me_ ,” Cyrus revealed.  He glimpsed at the hand lingering on the table beside his thigh, and he took a huge leap of courage and enveloped his fingers tightly around T.J.’s wrist, ignoring the loud pounding of his heartbeat in his chest.  He prayed T.J. couldn’t hear it within their close proximity. “It should be when _you_ decide.  I don’t want to take that away from you.”   _Like I accidentally took it away from myself._

“Cyrus,” T.J. enunciated, and Cyrus felt his heart melt at the way T.J. said his name.  It sounded like sweet syrup coming from his lips, and he wondered if T.J. meant to relay the undertones of endearment and caring the way he did.  “I’m choosing now. I’m not afraid anymore,” he confessed. His hand shifted under Cyrus’s grasp, and Cyrus, thinking T.J. was moving away from him, went to retract his own, but, before he could, T.J. weaved his fingers through the empty slots of his, keeping their palms flat on the table.  “And, by the way, I like you, too,” T.J. acknowledged with a beam, and Cyrus felt warmth flood him all over, the feeling even spreading to his cheeks, tinging them a light pink.

“You like me?” Cyrus asked in pure disbelief.  Almost like he had never heard of the concept before. “T.J. Kippen likes me,” he stated again, his voice on the edge of being giddy.  He was trying to make sense of it all, and despite the cogs of his brain whirring at unimaginable speed, Cyrus still couldn’t fully grasp the words.  T.J. must’ve known about Cyrus’s confession on the announcements then. But seriously, how was this even happening right now? Was this even real life?  

Today ranked high on things Cyrus never thought possible, that’s for sure.

“Yeah,” T.J. said, a slight smirk adorning his face.  “I do.”

Cyrus’s breath caught in his throat, his lips curving wide at the words.  “I like you, too, T.J.” The confession of his crush _to his crush_ felt like a breath of fresh air to his aching lungs, like a large weight being lifted off his chest, and the exhilarating feeling of looking into T.J.’s green eyes managed to make his heart skip beats.  

T.J. smirked slightly, glancing down as he laughed silently through his nose.  “I kind of figured,” he said, a teasing lilt to his voice, and Cyrus’s cheeks flooded with warmth.

“Oh, right,” Cyrus said, rubbing his face embarrassedly (although the smile was somehow unwavering, despite all that had just happened).  “This is all new to me—”

“Me too,” T.J. inputted, and they both shared a smile, beaming at how despite all their differences, they had this one very important piece of them in common.  That was something neither boy had ever imagined possible, and yet here they were, confessing their feelings for the other.

It was...nice for a change.  Cyrus usually lived in his comfort zone, only thriving in his safe little bubble outside of the cruel atmosphere of the world, and yet T.J. kept pushing him out of it, bringing him to do the unexpected.

And now he might be getting his first boyfriend.  Huh. Today had been shocking on all kinds of levels, that was for sure.

Cyrus still couldn’t help but hope that it had been under different circumstances.  Now the hard part was only beginning: he had to go out there with a brave mask and face _all of his classmates._ If he knew anything about Jefferson Middle School, it was that gossip spread _fast_ , just like it had when Amber and Jonah had broken up (and gotten back together, and then broken up once more...but that was besides the point), and he was afraid the news would reach his parents before he got a chance to come out to them himself.

He couldn’t think of a worse situation than that.

“Does that mean you’re my...my…,” Cyrus stuttered.  He couldn’t even spit the word out. _Boyfriend_ .  It was a simple word, and Andi and Jonah had no trouble flinging it around like it meant nothing, but to Cyrus it held a much more complex weight.  It meant things would _change_.  

Was he ready for that kind of change?

Then again, all sorts of things seemed to be changing today, and it didn’t seem like he had too much choice in the matter.

“Boyfriend?” T.J. asked, shaking Cyrus from his thoughts, and the word made Cyrus’s heart sputter.  He had always contemplated the possibility of having a boyfriend, but he never thought it would actually _happen_ , let alone with T.J. Kippen, captain of the basketball team.  His best friend’s ex-nemesis.

One of his closest friends and now crush.

The fact that Cyrus was so close to T.J.’s face didn’t help much in the matter.  He could easily count the freckles splayed on T.J.’s cheeks if granted the opportunity.

“Is that what you want us to be?” T.J. asked, and Cyrus felt his heart screaming one thing and his brain instructing another.  His mind was warning him against it, telling him it would end badly and that he’d lose one of his closest friends if he went through with it.

His heart won out.

“Yes,” Cyrus breathed out, feeling any remaining air trapped in his longs evaporate.  “That’s what I want.”

T.J. beamed.  “I guess I’m your boyfriend, then.”

“I guess you’re mine,” Cyrus replied with the same expression, and he suddenly felt giddy, feeling like he had all the energy in the world.  He wondered if this feeling would ever wear off.

Cyrus found out when the bell blared throughout the school building, the dark ringing of it sounding eerily like his death toll.  Cyrus gulped as his nerves suddenly swirled throughout his body once more. His veins were flowing with the same kind of anxious energy, and his legs suddenly went weak.   _This is it._

“I don’t think I can do this,” Cyrus confessed.  The fear that pierced his heart felt a lot like an icicle poking at his chest, its freezing, crystalline shrapnel puncturing through him like a bullet.

“We’re doing it together, Underdog,” T.J. reminded him, ruffling his hair.  Cyrus doubted his words. Was he ready to take this plunge?

T.J. noticed the shorter boy’s hesitancy in the tweak of his brow and the worried lines etched on his forehead, and he arched his own eyebrows at the shorter boy.  “You ready?” he asked, offering a strong, reassuring hand out for Cyrus to take. T.J. had boundless confidence in spades, and Cyrus could feel it rolling off T.J. in immense waves, giving him that courageous boost he needed.  

Cyrus joined their hands, intertwining them.   _Yes,_ he thought to himself as his heart pounded in his chest, _I’m definitely taking this plunge._ Cyrus thought as long as T.J.’s hand was bound tightly to his, giving him reassuring squeezes to match the concerned gazes he’d send him out of the corner of his eye, anything was possible.

 _Who knows?_ Cyrus thought to himself as they walked down the hallway together, hand in hand.  Him and T.J. shared a glance and exchanged a confident smile before Cyrus felt another shot of courage spike through him.  Feeling particularly daring, he swung their hands in between them like a carefree pendulum, which drew even more attention to them than they already had.   _Maybe there’s a silver lining to this mess after all!_

When T.J. and him eventually reached the entrance of Cyrus’s next period class, the pair pausing by the frame of the door, T.J. unclasped their hands (much to Cyrus’s reluctance) and tugged off his hoodie, turning and folding it over in his hands.  “For you,” he offered him, his _boyfriend_ (the word itself made something indescribable bubble in Cyrus’s chest).  Cyrus looked worriedly around them, prying, intrusive eyes constantly flickering to the pair, but T.J. was insistent, and he pushed the item of clothing adamantly against Cyrus’s chest.  “I want you to wear it,” the basketball player insisted, and Cyrus tried to ignore the way his heart was beating out of his chest.

“Then I will,” Cyrus relented, a light smile crossing his face.

As Cyrus sat there in his next class, letting the sky blue fabric pool over his arms and torso, he couldn’t help but beam widely at the thought of his new revelations today.  Even though a billion eyes were on him and the entire school had discovered his most deepest, darkest secret, Cyrus chose to revel in the fact that he had a boyfriend who was willing enough to brave the world with him instead of hiding in the shadows.  Cyrus was tired of lurking in the dark (or better said, _closet_ ), and the fact that he was out basking in the sunshine of life with everyone else meant the world to him.

Suddenly, a conversation he and Buffy had had months ago flickered in his mind.  

_“Buffy...am I gonna be okay?” he had asked, doubt and worry shining through his voice._

_“Cyrus.” Buffy assured him.  “You already are okay.”_ And he was.

**Author's Note:**

> Don't forget that my amazing talented friend Di (@spaceottersart on Tumblr) has posted artwork for this fanfiction [here](https://spaceottersart.tumblr.com/post/177576841084/outed) and [here](https://spaceottersart.tumblr.com/post/177576951067/another-thing-i-made-for-cyrusgoodboye-outed). Make sure to check it out because it blew me away! (We will be collabing together in the future because we are a dynamic duo and are iconic, I said what I said). 
> 
> Also, I love you, Bee, don't kill me :)


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